


Life Line: The Essence of a Little Powder {HIATUS}

by kennedie_exe



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Addiction, Amanda isn't nice, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Connor Deserves Happiness, Depression, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug recovery, Drug withdrawl, Gavin can go play in traffic, Hank and Markus are big help, Human AU, Implied Sexual Content, Lucy needs more love so here she is, M/M, Psychology of Addiction, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, Well this is definitely different, drug relapse, markus is a good boi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 08:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17935937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kennedie_exe/pseuds/kennedie_exe
Summary: Addiction is a nasty disease. Recovering from it is a treacherous journey but a possible one to conquer. Connor embarks on this journey, goes through the up and down, the highs and low, and it's difficult to kick old habits. And yet, the goal is progression, not perfection after all.





	1. A Road Less Traveled On

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooooooooo hi  
> I'm going to try this whole multichapter thing and see what happens  
> I'm in a Psychology of Addiction class and thus this fic will go on the more knowledge I gain  
> It probably won't be that long of a ride but it'll be a ride nonetheless  
> With school, updates may take a week or two so don't panic on my inconsistency  
> Let's just see how this goes and I hope you guys strap in for the tale of 'what I learned in psychology'

The numbness was all Connor felt and it only spread throughout his body making him completely unaware of his surroundings. The room was stuffy, it made him shrink into himself as a bit of claustrophobia settled in. His leg bounced in his uncomfortably metal seat as his eyes volleyed back and forth from all the other people similar to him. His skin was incredibly itchy, burning like fire ants were crawling along him, digging into him. He scratched his forearm slowly and he twitched a little in doing so. He was anxious; There were too many people around him, _looking at him_ — Well, not necessarily him but it sure enough felt that way.

 

Ah yes, paranoia, his dear friend.

 

Anxiety was a side effect. He was an anxious man as it were but not having that little fix of his only made it worse. Growing used to something and not having it could make one go stir crazy even if it was only a short period of time. Tie that in with his depressive tendencies and he was truly just a mess of hang-ups and missed opportunities. It’s hard to remind himself on the reason why he was in this establishment in the first place but then those memories flood back into him very quickly and he shuttered in his seat.

 

Connor had a few vices; Getting that high, maintaining that high, and doing whatever it took to get it again. Being in group therapy was not one of those vices. His psychiatrist said it was for the best because it could be the first step into getting his habits, or rather, addiction under control. It was also meant for him instead of going on trial because if he pleaded guilty of his actions, his life would truly be at a standstill. He was at that stage where he knew he had a problem, but stopping that problem was nearly impossible to do. So there he was, sitting with nothing but his thoughts; Some more unsavory than others but that was his life after all.

 

And what exactly was his life? It revolved around getting that little fix; A high that would make all his pain go away. A substance that would make him temporarily happy. Without that high, his mind goes to a very dark place; The deepest pit of despair that had him drowning and drowning, getting lost in the darkness up until he was able to obtain that wonderful red powder.

 

That was what he wished for the most when being in that God-forsaken session. If he could just go back home, lay his line out like normal and do a quick little sniff he'd be ‘happy’ again. But a las, someone started talking in this group and Connor had half the mind to walk out, but his probation officer was right to his back left watching his every move. Making a run for it wouldn't be his best move so it looked like he was going to suffer in silence.

 

“Connor, would you like to speak?” And he shook his head immediately, doesn't even utter a single word. That was when the eyes were staring at him, _through him_ and he twitched again on the verge of a panic attack before he calmed himself down. The woman was gentle at least, acknowledged his quietness and asked another person if they wanted to speak. He pretty much tuned out everything that was being said, his mind only on that little baggie in the top drawer of his nightstand in his room calling his name.

 

He would tune in every now and then, hearing the sob stories, the struggles of others that weren't his own. There was one guy that got his attention because he just seemed like he was completely out of place. His demeanor was much lighter than everyone else like he was _happy_ and Connor didn't even want to look in his general direction.

 

Fuck his attitude.

 

This _Markus_ guy just didn't seem like the kind of person Connor could vibe with and well, that was a mixture of his own paranoia and his antisocial tendencies becoming even more prevalent. The guy spoke of his progress and how he would only be at a few more sessions in which everyone clapped while Connor himself just tucked his hands under his thighs. Well lucky him. While that guy was at the end of the road, Connor was just barely at the start.

 

Jealousy was an ugly little thing. It started to build within as he continued to hear how ‘the medication and being able to talk to a group’ worked in Markus' favor.

 

 Bullshit, it was all utter bullshit.

 

Someone else had spoken too who was more similar to Connor. Drugs as well but was also on that road to recovery. It would be a treacherous adventure for sure; One in which Connor would embark on even when he himself didn’t feel like he could do it. The pressure, the stress, it all just made him want to give up already but even he knew the consequences if he kept it up.

 

Nevertheless, the meeting was soon ending. A reminder of the next session was spoken out before she had dismissed them. Connor stood up shakily, getting his barring before making his way towards his officer who gave him a sentimental look.

 

Hank was probably the only person Connor could trust even more than Ama— his ‘mother’. Hank was the one who found him damn near unconscious, roughly a month ago, from an overdose. That was one time among a lot of other reasons in what pushed him into getting help.

 

Taking a few steps back to that night in question, a lot of things had happened. Connor’s dealer, Gavin aka Red Reed, had cut him an opportunity of a lifetime for a small price. There was a thirium supply shortage and that was the sole way in which red ice could be processed. Reed was blunt in telling him how if he wanted red ice, he was going to have to find a way to get thirium, preferably from the main source. Connor was, or rather, used to be a detective so looking for things was his strong suit even if he was mildly impaired.

 

Androids were a nuance, intellectual beings that Connor couldn't give a fuck about. But those very beings were _filled_ with thirium. _It's just one android_. He told himself. _It won't be missed, no one would care that much_. So he hatched an easy enough plan and set out to commenced it. He didn't kill the android per se, but he left it probably in a state worse for wear.

 

Red ice cost an arm and a leg and that's exactly what he got from the android. He incapacitated and tased the android easy enough even when it did put up a good struggle. He was high when he was in the midst of tearing the android apart so he had little remorse for what he was actually doing. In the back of his mind, getting that powdered was all he cared about. Once he salvaged the parts, he was back at his dealer the same night who was so impressed that he gave Connor the last of his stash which was _a lot_ ; Nearly enough to last him for weeks.

 

Connor went home, snorted more lines than usual mixed in from what he already had taken earlier that day, and he passed out in a happy blur. Passed out longer than he could remember. The next he woke was to flashing lights, sirens, and being hauled onto a stretcher whilst vomit was all over him. His memory doesn't serve him too well on the details but getting caught with illegal drugs plus the android assault, which he thought he could get away with, surely made any plea he had not in his favor.

 

It was probably the first time he saw his mother genuinely look upset in a melancholy way rather than an irritated manner. He grew up with the she-witch bitch so when the first thing he saw when he was conscious again in that hospital bed was _her_ , he wanted to vomit. He did actually vomit a bit from the medicine going into him from the IV trying to reverse the overdose. He felt more terrible about himself than ever when he was in that hospital bed. That very moment of weakness was when he had decided that maybe he should really seeking out help.

 

Stair stepping methods were always better which was exactly what his psychiatrist had suggested he do. He doesn't have to quit cold turkey because that would only lead to heavier withdrawals so he took it as a grain of salt. The probation officer, Hank, was assigned to him more so just to watch over him since his mother, though seemed concerned, wanted nothing to do with him. At least Hank wanted to help him. So the road to getting that control over his life again would be commenced.

 

Once he was out of the hospital, that was when his journey began. Group therapy was also mentioned which was where Connor had just finished his first of many sessions of gratuitous informing and supposed healing efforts. Hank was there ready to usher him out and back home. Good, only a matter of time before he could feel whole again.

 

“Hey, excuse me?” Connor let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes as he scoffed. No, he wasn't going to speak to _that guy_. He was going to keep walking so he could get out of that fucking place but Hank already had stopped him.

 

“Be nice, kid.” Hank had insisted which made Connor glare at him. He did stop though, turned until he was faced with the man who called for him.

 

“Hey, Connor was it? I'm Markus.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” He does snarl, his expression completely blank save for his eye narrowing unnecessarily. Hank nudged his shoulder, giving him a _look_. “I mean… Yeah, it's Connor.” Then his eyes downcasted towards his feet. He wasn't sure why a pang of anxiety was rushing through him. Maybe due to the fact that this was the first human interaction he had in a long time that wasn’t with Gavin or Hank. He doesn't know this person at all and for some reason, he feared he'll say the wrong thing—

 

That little baggie never sounded so good right then.

 

“Oh, well I just wanted to introduce myself. I hope to see you again at our next meeting.” That was when Markus waved at him goodbye before parting ways. Connor barely acknowledged him and just started walking out with Hank.

 

“He seems like a nice guy.” Hank had spoken up.

 

“Whatever. Can I just go home now?” He was more than just aggravated. His body began to form that response of needing that drug for not having it in what seemed like forever when it's only really been a day. But that was what being an addict was like. That constant _need_ , that desire for a high unlike any other and it consumed Connor of everything he had. It was like a tug of war; That ‘I want, I want’ versus ‘I shouldn't, I shouldn't’ and Connor knew well enough he shouldn't but he _can't_ stop it or at least he can't as of late.

 

Hank had shaken his head at him as they made it to the car soon driving off back to Connor’s house. The ride back was quiet except for the bit of background music coming from the radio. The world passed by and away from him as he leaned his head against the window.

 

“Hey, I’m glad you went today.” Hank spoke. He was trying, he really was but Connor didn’t want to speak with him. He stood quiet for a bit, half pretending he fell asleep but he gave Hank the benefit of the doubt, sighing as he slumped in his seat.

 

“Yeah, yeah. It’s for the best right? It’s supposed to make me feel better, right? Well, it fucking doesn’t. What a waste of time.” His bit of patience was running thin. He was more irritable, more side effects and he could hear Hank sighing out.

 

“It’s not a quick fix. You’re going to have to put in the time and effort if you want to get better—”

 

“And what if I don’t? What if I never do?” His voice rose and he even surprised himself a bit at the words that left him. He began to feel worthless again, that ugly shadow that wanted to loom over him to remind him how this was all his fault in the first place.

 

“You will. It may take weeks, months, years, but you will get better. Don’t lose hope just yet, kid.” Well, that was easier said than done. Connor couldn’t be mad at the only person who actually believed in him. He decided not to respond, having nothing else to say. It would be hard, borderline impossible, but all he could do was _try_.

 

His beckon of hope was in reach when he arrived home. Probably the one and only thing he'll thank his mother for would be buying him a small house. Part of it was probably to get him out of her hair and Connor couldn't be more satisfied with that fact. He didn’t need a woman such as her in his life anymore anyway.

 

Amanda was many things, a mother was not one of them by any means no matter the adoption papers. Her manipulative ways, her conniving schemes, and the way she would talk down to Connor growing up did not help him in the slightest. In fact, it made his mentality slowly begin to deteriorate over the years. Nothing was ever on the physical aspect but sometimes even he would wish that he'd get slapped around instead of being told he wouldn't amount to anything unless he was absolutely perfect.

 

In his teen years, _she_ was like a leech on his neck, telling him to have perfect grades, get into the perfect school and he _did_. He was a straight A student, top 5% of his class and even went to college to become a detective. But all that left him so empty inside. He didn't do anything he wanted to do, it was always what _she_ wanted him to do. He had no other social outlets because he was too in tune with his grades, no friends, no anything.

 

He felt like nothing.

 

Even with a job that he was successful in never really made him happy. He never really had a concept of what happiness was up until a few years prior. It was a time in which he was slipping in his work, losing and not solving leads like usual and his motivation to do anything was so low that he had to drag himself out of bed most days to even think about going into work. Amanda would even chastise him about his work too, how he needed to do better or else he'd fail and Connor had had enough of it all.

 

He had two options at the time; One was more of a last resort to really escape the constant pain he felt while the other was more of a physical way to ebb that pain. Neither were smart ideas for someone as smart as he but the continuum of constant emptiness was daunting and he would do just about anything to feel whole again, more so, whole for the first time.

 

Oddly enough he was assigned a lead for finding and stopping a red ice ring. He was asked to have an android to accompany him but he shut that shit down so fast. He didn't need an intelligent life form to upstage him either. So he went out on his own one night feeling just as in the dark as ever. His leads all brought him to this abandoned warehouse on the outside of the city, a few discarded androids near the entrance way. He made his way trying to get as undetected as he could but he wasn't lucky apparently.

 

A man had come literally from the shadows. Long story short, the mysterious man had given him a proposition. Connor didn't know what compelled him to forgo all the training and protocol he had done to not be swayed by any individual, but he accepted the deal; Leaving the scene with a small little baggie tucked away in the inner pocket of his vest. It was a very stupid thing of him to do but it was worth the try. He needed something, as the man had spoken to him, to ‘take the edge off’ of his stress of everything.

 

It was the beginning of his downfall.

 

That night from his memory was just like the night right after he got home from the group therapy session. He had practically ran straight to his room, retrieved the baggie and started that oh so familiar routine. He got his rolling paper, rolled it as he used another piece of paper to put the content he poured out into a line. Once his line was formed, the paper all rolled up, he took a deep inhale to get the powder through his nose and into his system.

 

He was immune to that after burning sensation that lingered in his nose. Even does a second line for good measures. It only took a few minutes before the drug began to work and that was when he felt good about everything. He had no worries, no pain, he was _happy_. He knew it wouldn't last long but he would always just do more lines just so he could feel this euphoria as long as he could. He couldn't even process when Hank checked in on him who only said he was leaving, to be safe, and that he would check on him tomorrow.

 

The thing about a red ice high is sometimes one feels energized and other times the feeling is calmer. Connor was having a calmer episode where he just laid in his bed in a daze. Having this high made him believe that he didn’t have any sort of problem. What was the problem with obtaining happiness? Life should be happy and Connor wanted any means necessary to have that happiness. Without that happiness, he was just an empty shell of his former self and he never wanted to go back to that life again. As it were, he was going to savor every bit of euphoria he had.

 

He was safe. The little powder was all he needed.


	2. A Half Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To what lengths will Connor take to obtain his drugs? More than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I say heed some of the tags because now it'll make a little sense on why I tagged as such. Also, shoutout to Lucy because she needs more love so appreciate her alright!

Weeks had breezed by since his last therapy session. Within his time not in that little room surrounded by people, he spent his days as he had for those past couple of years. Connor was always on the chase for more; The cycle of retaining that high. He could only buy so much at a time but he didn't care about anything else but that surge of happiness he'd get when he was high. He'd meet with Reed at their usual spot in the depths of the night, exchange his money, and got yet another loaded baggies with the sweetest content he'd ever laid eyes on.

 

Their interaction was nothing more than a business sort of thing. A supplier and the buyer with needs for the demand. Connor never saw Gavin as anything above a person giving him drugs and the feeling was blatantly mutual. Reed did though play a role in his addictive behaviors; He would bribe him more, ask him to run errands he could do himself but Connor knew the end goal. He knew if he did exactly what was told of him that he'd get what he wanted.

 

At a glance, one night during the extended break between therapy sessions, Connor was below on his funds. With limiting comes an even lesser chance to be able to buy the necessary red ice for his next high binge. They monitor his money more closely making sure he actually eats since that hadn't been happening as it should and also so he didn't buy as much drug or any at all which that alone can't be stopped so easily. Hank would leave very late at night those days, issue his goodbye before leaving. When Connor knew he was alone that particular night he sprung out of bed, said a short prayer, and hoped Reed would let this small inconvenience slide at least once.

 

At that moment in time, the need was surpassing Connor’s rationale. That alleyway had become almost the light at the end of the tunnel, a sacred place to acquire his needs. He knew he didn't have enough but he had _some_ amount of money hoping it would be better than nothing. Reed was as intimidating as ever, leaning against the brick wall with his oversized leather jacket, hands dug into his pockets, and eyes landing right on Connor when he sensed a presence. That slimy smirk always served to make Connor’s skin crawl.

 

“Ah, back for more? Of course, you fuckin’ are. You really are pathetic but hey, I'm making money off your dumbass anyways.” And that was Gavin being in a good mood. He could and has said harsher things towards Connor. Words do hurt but those words were surprisingly tamed. He thought maybe he could get away with just a little debt. He timidly pulled out his money, presenting as so.

 

“I'm… a little short, but I _need_ a gram.” Reed sold the drug in half grams ($60) for convenience which only made his eye scan what seemed to be a $100 bill in hand. He stepped towards Connor, and though he was shorter, he still posed as a big threat. Connor began to feel uneasy, gulping down the lump in his throat as Reed approached him slowly.

 

“Hmmm… What, don't have mommy's money anymore?” The words made Connor visibly grimace and a nasty chuckle left Reed's mouth. He and Gavin go way back to the first time he started this sickly, health reducing habit. He never meant to bring up Amanda but now all Gavin does was tease him about how he doesn't have _real_ money.

 

“Just… I'll pay you back next time. This won't happen again. I just… I need _more_.” The last thing he wanted to do was sound so desperate but he had been at a low point and the only way to make him feel remotely better was that red powder. He was overly fidgety, his hand moved up to scratch the itchiness of his arm. His nerves were getting to him but seeing Reed pull out the little baggie made Connor sigh in relief. He nearly broke out in a smile but was so caught up in the sight to even register Reed's next move.

 

The quick knee to the stomach had him gasp out. He hunched over on instinct, barely having the time to retaliate because then he was tripped, making him fall onto the concrete face first. He at least caught himself before face-planting but he wheezed out in agony when he was being kicked in the side repeatedly. He deserved such treatment, getting kicked around like the trash he was.

 

“Listen here fucker,” There was another hard kick to the side before Gavin used his foot to kick him over to his back. That foot pressed into his chest causing him to cry out in pain. “You're gonna get me my fuckin’ money or next time,” He pressed hard on his chest making it nearly impossible to breathe. “I won't be as forgiving.” That baggie was then tossed on his chest when he was able to breathe again. He struggled to get to his feet, his body throbbing from the mini torture he just endured as he got enough strength to peel himself off the ground.

 

But at least he got his fix that night.

 

\---

 

He would do _anything_ for that fix. It was a dependency. His body had grown so accustomed to the red ice that he physically can't function without it. Going longer than a day without the powder got him overly jittery, made that paranoia way too familiar almost as if he was going crazy. He'd hallucinate when he was more than a few days off. His brain played too many tricks on him as it were, he didn't need the extra nonsense.

 

Hank had to really start monitoring him on his intake. Again, it was stair stepping so he could still use his drug but he had to start limiting himself. It wasn't the worst possible thing at first. He was still able to get high but without doing multiple lines, he couldn't maintain his high. Not maintaining that high was what caused him more issues. It was what made him crave more and more at every chance he got just so he could falsely feel better about himself.

 

When he was off that euphoric high, he really began to feel like the scum of the earth. He would dwell on how he used to be, all the good he was able to do and he threw it all away for the sake of self-medicating. He spent way too much time in his head; Voices telling him he was nothing but a druggie and should accept the fact that it was his life. He believed those voices because they were correct, this was his life; A life of nothing but that high.

 

More weeks would go by and it was really beginning to fuck him up. Hank was becoming more of a hardass towards him as he was supposed to be. It wasn't really helping him though. If anything, it began to stress him out even more and it only made him feel sad; The understatement of life as he knew it. It was more so like a rain cloud began to downpour just around him. A storm pulling him in until he drowned in it without being able to breach the surface. It was in those moments when he really felt worthless.

 

He had relied on the drug to get him through his dark days but that empty feeling began to resurface. He dare not tell Hank about _that_ sort of thing because all Hank needed to know was how he was an addict _trying_ to do better. His actual mental state was of no concern so he hid that away as best he could from _everyone_.

 

Within his time not in a group therapy session, he would meet weekly with his psychiatrist or shrink rather. Lucy was a kind woman, soft-spoken and informative. When Connor didn't want to speak, she didn't pry, she only talked and at least tried to lighten the mood. As stubborn as he was, even he couldn't have an angry bone in his body toward her. She did more than just ask how his journey was going, she'd also speak words of wisdom to him.

 

“ _The life of a man is solidarity, poor, nasty, brutish, and short_. But one does not need to live life in such a manner. _Life must be understood backward but lived forwards_.” Connor nodded his head. He adhered those words but he didn't think they pertain to him. His life had been nothing but shit and he wanted to retort with a worrying response but he instead continued to listen. She gave him a peculiar look.

 

“ _Happiness is not an idea of reason, but of imagination_. Tell me, Connor, are you happy right now? Only answer if you are able.” And Connor almost broke down right then and there. He wasn't happy, so far from it but that wasn't his issue at hand. He didn't think he could fake his way out of the question. His body was already overly exerted from not having any drug in his system.

 

He didn't budge an inch. His expression remained as blank as ever as he stood completely silent. She gave a knowing yet sad smile. She was very patient with him, never speaking ill of him or his behaviors and respected his quietness. Her words brought the tiniest bit of some form of hope inside him that usually fizzled out when their time together was over. But he at least could feel something for once even for a limited time.

 

“Whenever you want to speak, I'll always be here to listen to you. You may be troubled, but I know things will work in your favor. You have a long journey ahead of you and you will be successful, Connor.” Her smile became warmer and Connor caught himself showing a small smile of his own.

 

Little acts of kindness really do go a long way.

 

But the moment he was escorted out, the urges began to form. That craving was slowly consuming him and the internal tug-of-war within himself started forming in his mind. It's the fact that he knew he had some red ice left that got that desire to want it bloomed inside him. ‘I want, I shouldn't’ repeated in his head and as per usual, the ‘I want’ always prevailed.

 

On the way out of the treatment center, he saw a familiar face who immediately smiled at him. He'd call it fate but he didn't believe in such thing. Seeing Markus though when he thought he probably wouldn't see him again was definitely the world playing against him. Connor didn't feel as nervous before, but his mind was still on that powder he was going to get into when he got home.

 

“Connor!” And Connor stopped in his tracks, half tempted to make a run for it but Markus was already approaching him. “It's been a few weeks. I hope you're doing alright.” Markus' smile was oddly infectious and Connor only scratched the back of his neck, eyes looking anywhere that wasn't him.

 

“I—” Then he really thought about that comment. He had been… in this sort of limbo as of late. He doesn't know how he truly felt. The cravings were still very hard to get over, he still was going home to do yet another line or two, but the whole limiting thing may have the tiniest bit of effect on him. It's so minor that he can't really tell which, well, is as expected for an addict; Not really seeing result unless one truly stopped the behavior. Connor was nowhere near that point.

 

He realized he was quiet much longer than he anticipated. Those small little nervous fidgets started up and he felt like a complete fool. But Markus smile was pleasant, never faltering as if he was giving Connor time to collect himself. Connor soon took a short intake of breath before exhaling away a few nerves swelling within.

 

“I'm doing… Things are going…” And that was the extent of how far he'll speak because saying he was a flat out depressed addict struggling in his endeavors was not the way to go about a conversation. Markus seemed okay with the response, nodding his head in acknowledgment.

 

“That's good, and things will continue to get better for you.” Then Markus had rested his hand on Connor’s shoulder who flinched on contact before doing his best to relax from such a simple gesture.

 

“Thanks.” He kept his eyes at the ground for a while until he glanced ever so to look at Markus. He registered exactly how close they were from each which was closer than he thought. He briefly looked Markus in the eyes before quickly looking away. Heterochromia wasn't something you see every day.

 

“Anytime.” Then he paused before letting his hand fall from Connor’s shoulder. Connor watched as Markus started digging in his pocket before pulling out a piece of paper. “And here, just in case you need someone else to listen or talk to you.” Then Markus had taken out his phone, seeing the time before cursing to himself underneath his breath. “Sorry to cut this short but I have somewhere to be. Hope to see you again.” And with that, Markus was waving to him as he started speed walking in the other direction.

 

Such an odd interaction; One that didn't make Connor completely irritable even when he had first thought Markus to be an annoyance. The true first impression wasn't that bad after all. He looked down at the paper in hand that displayed a name and a number on it. _Markus Manfred_. The surname rings a bell but Connor couldn't quite put his finger on it. Instead, he put away the piece of paper in his own pocket, crossed his arms as he waited for Hank to take him home.

 

In the grand scheme of things, he was feeling so weak to his cravings. Even after his therapy session, after his run-in with Markus, that red ice had never once left his thoughts. It stalled for such a short period of time but once he was able to reminisce and think about it, the more he wanted that high back. As it always would be; Being an addict was a damn curse to his life.

 

Every time Hank would pick him up or when he was doing his job in watching over Connor, he always tried to make small talk. At first, Connor didn't want to hear anything from him but as time progressed, he turned to only listening or uttering a few words here and there. As he was driven back to his house, he leaned back in his seat, eyes closed. His brain was actively spinning with that apparent need for something he shouldn't have—

 

“So how was therapy?” And in that split second, Connor was snapped out of his thoughts. Hank had always pushed him to talk because he said bottling in emotions wasn't a good thing to do. The thing is, Connor had been doing that all his life. He kept things to himself, endured in his feelings alone and it was difficult to actually speak up about all the things that he had a cap on.

 

“Fine, I guess. As if I'll get remotely better.” He shrugged his shoulders, sounding just as pessimistic as usual.

 

“Lucy is one of the best. She's no Houdini or anything but she has helped a lot of people so I've heard. She'll be a good help for you.” Connor only slumped down his seat a little, not entirely sure how to respond so he just nodded his head.

 

It was silent for the rest of the time on the drive home. Hank was considerate of his silence and Connor was rather grateful for that. He did, though, have a thought cross his mind; More so a comment that wanted to be let out.

 

“Ran into Markus earlier.” He was unsure what made him make that statement but it was already out of his mouth before he could even take the words back.

 

“Oh really? How was that?” Hank seemed interested in that tidbit, glancing over to him for a bit before his eyes were back in the road.

 

“It was fine.” Connor shrugged his shoulders once more. “Didn't talk much and then he had to leave.” He sighed as he soon turned to look out the window, watching the city go by in a blur. “He gave me his number…” He trailed off because as soon as he said that out loud, the more it sounded like an implication.

 

“His number?” And Hank chuckled then, shaking his head knowingly. “Well kid, you might have a secret admirer.”

 

“Don't even joke that way.” Connor’s face remained blank, a near deadpan. Whether that was a joke or not, Connor didn't think anyone would even try to be his admirer. Not only does he have nothing to be admired on, but he was also pretty sure no one would see pass him as nothing more than an addict.

 

“Well, maybe a friend at least.” Connor never really considered friends. He never had any friends growing up so socializing was a challenge in itself. Mostly due to the fact he was under the wing of his mother who didn't want him to socialize.

 

Amanda would always be a source of most of his problems.

 

Nevertheless, the two had returned back to his house without further talk. As per usual, Connor quickly went to his room, this time with Hank in tow. It was strange being watched using an illegal drug such as this, but monitoring was as intense as ever. He went through the motions of forming his powder red line, snorting it without even thinking about being watched. Hank was there to make sure it was only one line and since he used the last of it, Hank didn't have any further comments.

 

But he needed more.

 

Not then did he need it because the line served to make him feel a low-level amount of euphoria. Once that high was gone, and that ugly starved sensation resurfaced, he would be on that chase again; A rush for more because that's all he knew how to do.

 

Being in that high made every inkling of anxiety dissipate. In those high moments, he was able to relax, not having to think about how shitty his life was or why he hadn't _done_ anything about it. Those moments were the best for him. He felt whole, he felt as if nothing could go wrong and he savored every second of it.

 

Life was better this way.

 

\---

 

He found himself in that alleyway. He always felt terrible going in the middle of the night all so he could get more of that little happy powder. The location was in its usual place, right behind an abandoned building along the outskirts of the city. It was roughly a fifteen-minute walk so Connor never minded going out in the darkness. It was worth it after all; He'd get what he was seeking out like he's done oh so many times.

 

This time though, he was unfortunate for not having nearly enough money for a gram let alone half a gram. In his mind, he believed Reed would be lenient; He was his ‘favorite’ customer from what he had been told so Connor was pretty much running on hope at that point.

 

He didn't say a word when he was faced with Gavin. His eyes don't meet those dark grey ones upon approaching him; Too timid to make eye contact when he had a bad feeling about how this all will go down. Reed even smiled at him, something sly mixed with that certain edge he always had.

 

“Hey, dipshit! Where's my money at?” Getting right to the point wasn't what Connor had hoped for. He winced, gulping down the lump in his throat as he was ready to face the inevitable.

 

“I… I don't have enough… but I'm out of what I had. I-I need some more.” Connor was already bracing for a punch in the stomach or an elbow to the rib cage but he got neither. Instead, Reed let out an arbitrary laugh. It was cynical, a deep bellow that left Connor speechless.

 

“Very funny, Connor. Never really pegged you as a jokester.” Connor’s heart started to race. The situation was beginning to make that anxiety crawl up his neck, suffocating him.

 

“I—” He didn't even get a chance to continue his thought. His shirt was gripped and he was slammed against the brick wall; His breath caught in his throat morphing into a strangled gasp of pain. Fear had spread all over his body, eyes blinking rapidly as they could do nothing but stare at the man in front of him.

 

“Now I'm going to ask you again. _Where. Is. My. Fuckin’. Money_?” Reed had spat out, his breath the stench of cigars. Connor’s whole body began to stiffen up. He was shaking, completely unaware and frightened at how everything was unveiling around him.

 

Desperation began to settle in. He didn't want to piss Gavin off any more than he appeared he already had. He was pulled back and slammed against the wall once more, his head colliding with the back of the wall as a sharp pain shot through his skull.

 

“I-I don't have it. I'm sorry I—” He was being slammed once again into the wall as he wheezed out in agony. “P-please, I'll do anything. Whatever you want just… I don't have your money… B-but I'll do whatever you ask of to clear my debt.” He was digging himself into a hole for saying those words. He knew well enough that if Reed complied, he'd be probably doing things he shouldn't be getting into.

 

Reed’s expression was indescribable. It mellowed from the pissed off look but the hint of malice was still there. The worse was probably that smirk that stretched across his face tied in with a certain glint in his eyes that made an unpleasant feeling rise within Connor.

 

“ _Anything_?” The way Gavin said that made Connor’s stomach sink. He knew well enough that there were all sorts of things Reed would make him do. Connor had a few ideas, all in which made him want to regret his desperation. He gave a weak nod of his head though, dreading his next choice of words.

 

“Yes… anything.” Then his shirt was released causing him to crumble to the ground with an exhale of the breath he was holding in. The chuckle he heard was maniacal, sending a shiver down his spine.  

 

“Hmmm…” Connor watched as Gavin stroked his chin as if he was thinking something over. “How about this,” Reed had squatted down to Connor’s level on the ground, giving him a sharp slap to the face. Connor had immediately retracted his head back upon feeling Reed’s cold hand grasp his chin as if he were trying to be apologetic. “How about you bring your ass by my house tomorrow night and I'll give you a way to repay _some_ of your debt. That's the easy way, you don't wanna know the hard way.” Connor didn't like the way that sounded and if he knew any better, he knew what kind of proposition this was.

 

The world was really testing him. It was seeing if he could overcome his urges, overcome that constant need that had been so engraved into him for so long. As much as he wanted to get away and forget everything that had transpired, he couldn't. He couldn't give up that craving for more or the rush of a high it would bring. Knowing that, in the end, he'd get more sent a disgusting surge through his body. Connor was truly dancing with the devil and nearly selling his soul to one of the demons under him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shits already about to hit the fan but it be like that sometimes ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. Coming to Terms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knowing and understanding is the easy part; Actual effort in fixing one's behavior is not so easy. Baby steps, baby steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, I'm back with another chapter! One that leads in from the last but then goes into the start of this one. Our dear Connor is slowly but surely progressing.

Connor had done only a handful of really bad things that were not just being an addict. He had never felt so disgusting in his life than he did getting out of that bed. The smoke around him was suffocating, clogging his lungs as he scavenged quickly for the rest of his clothing. He threw his shirt on, quickly pulled his jeans whilst wincing in the process. He gave a once-over to the man leaning back in that bed as that sinking dread started settling over him.

 

Reed looked as smug as ever; That cigarette between his fingers, ghosting his lips as he polluted the air around them with yet another puff of smoke. It was rather cliché of him; Smoking a cigarette after sex was just like a scene in a very bad erotic movie. Connor, on the other hand, was on the verge of a panic attack, was probably already having one in the midst of gathering all his things to leave as soon as he could.

 

What he did was a very stupid idea but once again, the rational side of his brain had long stopped working and the more desperate side took control. He needed that drug, needed a way to get more of it by any means necessary. One of his many times of weakness; Him succumbing to the urges and falling back into the mindset of ‘I want’ that slowly morphed in a more prevalent thought of ‘ _I need_ ’.

 

Connor didn't say a damn thing as he gathered himself up to leave such a vile place.

 

“Hey, you can take those two baggies right there free of charge. I think your ass was payment enough.” The chuckle was horrid, mocking, and Connor left just as quickly at the nauseating words spoken out. He was hesitant just the very slightest about taking the baggies but a few nerves dwindled as soon as his hands touched them. He grabbed them and walked out of the room and further out of the shitty apartment complex.

 

His legs were wobbly, stiff from the positions he'd been in and every step just felt like a nasty reminder on just how fucked up he was. He felt tainted, he felt all sorts of repulsion towards himself as he walked the silent streets in the depth of the night. What he had succumbed to was probably the biggest mistake he had up to date. As much as he wished he could go back in time and stop himself from even considering such a proposition, that one thing lingered in his mind:

 

_Do it for the high. That's all that matters_.

 

It took all his energy to get home and even more energy so he could hold himself together. The moment he stepped through his front door it was like a tsunami came through and all his emotions rushed out. It had been a while since he allowed himself to cry, to let his bottled up feelings just come undone in a deep sob. He began shaking as that familiar sense of worthlessness began to loom over him.

 

Connor tossed the baggies away from him in disgust. Doing so made his whole body lurch just to get them back; A feeble response. He gathered them against his chest, holding onto them for dear life as he let out a scream. It didn't take until then for him to really understand the full extent of his behavior. He didn't just get the red ice so easily, he didn't have the means to achieve it in the first place, but he fucking gave his body up all for the sake of getting high and that was single-handedly the worst thing he had ever done.

 

There went those voices again; Telling him how much of a disappointment he was and how he'd always just be an addict. The voices grew more self-deprecating and it all just made him crumble into himself. How pathetic of him. He used to be able to do _something_ with his life but now he was _nothing_. Nothing but a useless drug addict.

 

He hammered that notion in his head which only served to really push those demons out.

 

He had half the mind to snort a full bag just to risk it all but there was a tug inside him that told him, oddly enough, to _not_ do that. The side that usually outweighed his rational thought was still there, still persisting him to do something but Connor was so broken he couldn't even move from his spot on the ground.

 

Then a thought crossed his mind. He knew it was unlikely to happen but it was the first time he needed _someone_ to talk to. He began scrambling himself up from the ground, grimacing at the way his body felt in certain areas. He stumbled his way towards his coffee table, reaching down to get that little piece of paper he had received days prior. It was roughly 5:30 am so his odds were rather slim but oh how he wished this person would answer their phone.

 

He never really imagined his addictive behavior to be so negatively life-changing, granted the high was all that he needed. Without the high, he was somewhat properly able to think for a bit. That behavior he pulled felt like a turning point. Compared to all the things he had ever done just to get his fix, the fact he so easily gave up his body had crossed the line and he realized it oh so too late into his years of addiction. He can't do things like that anymore.

 

He shuddered, his hands shakily reaching for his phone as he nervously dialed the number on the small piece of paper. The dial rings once, twice, thrice, and before he was going to give up, he could hear the receiving end get picked up.

 

“ _Hello…_?” The voice on the line sounded groggy, a yawn sounding through their end.

 

“Um… Hi... Markus. I'm—” And as he spoke, he didn't realize how close he was to breaking down again until that wave crashed into him. He cried hysterically into the phone, unable to get his bearings as he let all his emotions overtake him.

 

“ _Connor? Connor is everything alright?_ ” What a loaded question. Everything was far from alright. Everything was absolutely shitty and all Connor wanted to do was to just— No, he wouldn't think _that_. He tried his best to calm down, taking a few needed breaths so he could stop himself from crying like an idiot to a person he barely knew.

 

“N-no… I did… something really bad and I can't take it back and I'm just so fucking stupid.” Let the self-deprecating rambling commence. “I'm... a shitty person. I can't control my damn urges anymore… I fucked up and I'm nothing but an addict. A useless, worthless addict—”

 

“ _Connor, can you breathe for me? Hold your breath in for a few seconds then let it out. I can sense your panic and I want you to calm down a bit before you have an attack._ ” Something about those words made Connor follow exactly what was asked of him. He did take a few deep breaths, holding them in before exhaling out. He did the exercise a few times, which took a little longer than intended, but he was able to actually speak without babbling out words.

 

“I'm… Sorry…”

 

“ _No need to apologize. Are you home? And you don't have to say, but what's the matter_?” Markus had a careful tone of voice, calming almost. All of Connor’s feelings were ready to continue to fall out but he resisted the urge to reveal his thoughts or make himself too vulnerable.

 

“I just… I fucked up. It's all coming down on me, the extent of my behavior, and… I need help. I can't do shit like this anymore, I can't _live_ like this anymore.” It hurt entirely too much to be saying those to Markus but he had no one else, not then at least. He wished this wasn't their first real-time talking when he was a loose cannon and vulnerable. “I am home…” He decided to add on to give a bit of closure.

 

“ _It's good you're home. And what you're going through is very tough to get over, but I know you can and will get over it. It may take some time but it is very doable. Speaking from experience. Everything will be okay._ ” The bit of reassurance helped him calm down. His once frantic brain was beginning to slow down as he started to take in reality. It dawned on Connor, once again, at how late it actually was as he looked towards his clock that issued a bright 6:03 am.

 

“Fuck, sorry for calling so late.” He went around Markus' spoken words. He adhered them but did not have the mindset to actually respond. “You should go back to sleep.”

 

“ _Well actually I was getting up anyway, you just beat my alarm clock_.” And there was a light chuckle attached to the end of that statement that made Connor’s heart stop for a second before he shook his head. “ _If anything, you should be going to bed_.” Okay, fair.

 

His time spent talking to Markus made all those unwanted urges still in their progression. The craving was still persistent as ever, but he hadn't just hung up the phone just to snort a few lines even when it was silent on both ends. Oddly enough, Markus' voice just sounded… soothing in a way. It eased Connor’s racing thoughts with every syllable he spoke through the receiver. For such a short time, it was one of the first times Connor was able to think—

 

“ _Still there?_ ” Markus voiced which brought Connor back once again from his thoughts.

 

“Yes… Just spacing out a bit.” He responded.

 

“ _Then I won't keep you up much longer. But before we hang up, when is your next therapy session?_ ” His next session was soon actually and it was weirdly nice to hear Markus ask about it.

 

“In a few days.” _If I make it._ He wanted to add on but he shoved that little voice down as quickly as it came.

 

“ _Maybe we could meet up? I can share a few coping mechanics with you. Nothing is a quick fix but it might help you out._ ”

 

“I—” Then Connor thought that little suggestion over. The hardest part would be going and doing anything without that little high he sought out so much but then again, that was the point; Doing something else to get his mind of wanting to do line after line until the world became just a bit more bearable. “Y-yeah sure—” Then an unexpected yawn escaped him.

 

“ _Good. I'll text you when we can. Now, I think it's best you sleep, okay?_ ”

 

“Yeah… yeah, you're right. Good night and—” He hesitated on the words before getting them out. “Thank you for listening to me.”

 

“ _No problem, anything I can do to help. I'll talk to you soon. Goodnight_.” Then the called ended as silence overcame him.

 

Connor sort of just laid there on the floor, his mind spinning about with the conversation he just had. Someone such as Markus didn't have to help him or talk to him or even pick up the phone to speak to him. He was not like Hank or Lucy; Those getting paid to help him, but he was taking his time out of his day to teach him coping mechanism and that just seemed so strange to Connor.

 

As he laid on the floor, he didn't fathom the thought of red ice. It was only a matter of time until the cravings started to take over and he body response would _make_ him do it, but not right then. He even allowed himself a small smile to himself.

 

Maybe Markus wasn't so bad after all.

 

\---

 

The proceeding day was when Connor received a text message from Markus saying they could meet up. He was already in that relaxed, happy buzz; The kind of buzz only red ice could give him that made all his pressing problems disappear and numb reality around him. The mental effects of the drug were what Connor sought, that euphoric high, but the physical effects, though not the worse yet, still left his body a jittery mess.

 

His blood pressure was significant low most of the time and it didn't help that his appetite was also low. He was moderately underweight for not eating properly or at all because the need to eat rarely occurred to him. He could never be too physically active because his heart had grown a bit weaker from constant drug use. Probably won't catch Connor running after the drug in a literal sense. Topical consumption left his nose a bit worse for wear but when one is chasing the high, all the physical effects never mattered.

 

It could be worse though. He could be on his deathbed which never necessarily sounded bad, but that was something else he had to work on entirely. But baby steps as it were, he had his meeting with Markus to attend and he had to straighten himself out beforehand. Being high would be a bad idea even if the urge to do just one more line was there. Resistance was tough but he somehow managed to get himself together so he could, in fact, meet up with Markus.

 

He reminisced on the night prior. He wasn't sure what would have happened if Markus didn't answer his phone. An overdose would have only been the tip of the iceberg. With the way, his mind was spinning… there was a lot of _situations_ he could have put himself in. His mind trails further back that night when he was in _that_ bed with _that_ man—

 

He shouldn't be thinking about it, but as Hank escorted him toward the meeting up spot, all he could think about was how differently people would see him if they knew exactly what he had done. He already had addiction under his name, he didn't need any more derogatory things spoken about him.

 

No, he had to calm down before those urges started creeping along his body. He was already becoming fidgety and walking in the day time had all sorts of paranoia washing over him. Hank's reassurance was a little helpful but his cravings never ceased and yet he mustered up the bit of strength to get him through that day without any drugs.

 

“So, excited for your date?” Connor nearly choked upon hearing the question, shaking his head fanatically as he cleared his throat.

 

“I-it is not a date.” He retorted.

 

“You say that, but not too many people just go hang out with someone they barely know. Dare I say, a blind date.” Hank was teasing him obviously and Connor was not going to see it as anything else but another outlet for helping him.

 

“Not in the slightest. He's actually going to teach me a few things. Nothing more, nothing less.” Connor wanted to end the conversation but Hank seemed to be having way too much fun with it.

 

“Ah, young love.” Hank chuckled and Connor only rolled his eyes.

 

“Instead of playing matchmaker, can you actually do your job?”

 

“My job is to make sure you're staying out of trouble and not doing things you're not supposed to be doing. Pokin’ fun at you may not be in the job description but it's pretty damn fun too.” Connor had another retort ready but soon they were at their destination.

 

Connor had never been on that side of town. It was much nicer, more built up and the little art studio they were at tied in with the rest of the rich aesthetic around them. Small shops lined the streets, little spring decor spiraled the lamp poles, and the atmosphere wasn't as claustrophobic. He was able to actually breathe, taking in what was around him. Those little nervous fidgets would come and go but it didn't deter him as he opened the door to the art studio.

 

The little bell at the top of the door rang as Connor entered with Hank in tow. He spotted Markus immediately who was perched on a chair with a paintbrush in hand. The smile he received made his heart do a thing but he blocked out that minuscule feeling from progressing any further. His heart also started pounding a bit as Markus was approaching him. Nerves, it was definitely his nerves acting.

 

“Hey, I'm glad you could make it. Hope you don't mind getting a little messy with paint.” And that's when it hit Connor that duh, that was what they were going to be doing. Art really isn't his forte, nothing was really his forte so this was quite unnerving.

 

“I haven't painted anything in my life so I'd like to think this little exercise would be a disaster in the making.” He didn't mean to already sound so pessimistic but he didn't think he had an artistic bone in his body. Markus' expression softened, extending his hand out for Connor to take.

 

“And I'm here to show you that you don't have to be good at painting. This is all for fun after all and a way to calm your mind down.” Connor was hesitant at the hand held out towards him but he took it anyways. It was weird but it felt as if every inkling of anxiety he had going into all of this had melted away as soon as he was guided towards an easel.

 

“Do you want to join us too Mr. Anderson?” Markus also asked Hank who shook his head.

 

“Nope, you kids have fun. I'll actually be back to get him later on.” He waved them off before leaving the studio.

 

Markus had gestured him to a chair before going over to pick up a blank canvas. Connor had several thoughts running through his mind; Some in which would go in and out of the usual cravings that plagued him but one, in particular, was how he liked how warm Markus' hand was—

 

Okay, that thought was getting pushed back.

 

“Okay Mr. Artist, what do you want me to draw?” Connor looked towards Markus with a questioning look, curious on what ways this will help him.

 

“First off I'm no artist. This is a hobby.” Markus let out a soft chuckle before continuing on. “Second, before you start anything, can you tell me how you feel right this moment?”

 

“What, are you playing my therapist now too?” He didn't mean to make such a snarky comment but Markus seemed to not mind the remark.

 

“Not at all, but it will help with how I want to start this.” Markus answered back. Connor sighed out as he thought about that question.

 

“Neutral I guess? Like I think I feel okay, for right now at least.” He said that as his mind raced to that morning when he was happily on his drug without any worries. Then it went back to the night prior when he was a loose cannon, further back to when he was disgustingly, and unfortunately consentingly, exposed. But he tried not to think about the past at that moment. As he sat in that chair, he did feel okay, nothing more or less.

 

“Okay, now I want you to draw how you feel. Let the raw emotion come through you and out the paintbrush.” Well, that wasn't exactly what Connor had in mind, but if it'll help him, he shouldn't complain much about it.

 

An assortment of colors were in front of him on one of those painting pads. He went for a normal looking brush, dipped the brush in water, tapping the excess water off before dipping the brush into the green. He liked to think green was a neutral color so he started out making a simple circle on the canvas. He got more green and filled into the circle a little messily as a few globs of paint ran down the circle.

 

Connor got lost in the simplicity that was art. He wasn't doing anything special at all except filling in a circle with one color. But his mind did start to spiral out a bit on its own. He had dipped the paint into the red not caring if it mixed with the green and he splattered it against the green circle. Then he went for the purple, some blue, and orange and did the same thing until the once green circle had colorful paint splatters all over it.

 

Connor came back to his senses before putting the paintbrush down. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he let it out quickly. He focused back on the painting, his vision once blurred had finally seen exactly what he had made. It didn't make a lick of sense to him but he thought it showed how he felt. He only shrugged and turned towards Markus who had a very peculiar look to him.

 

“Sorry if it's nothing special.” Connor commented, he eyes scanning over Markus as he saw a smile spread across the other's face.

 

“No, this is a great painting. Though I want to know why you started to splatter the paint like that.” Markus rose an eyebrow as he questioned the painting.

 

“I guess… feeling neutral was an overstatement.” Connor admitted. It was like he had a neutral shell with small little cracks in it that represented his repressed feelings trying to break through. He wasn't neutral and overall, he was far from okay but at least he felt _something_ right then. It may not be sadness or anger, but it was something that struck him deeper than any emotion he had ever felt.

 

Was it… actual happiness?

 

It was small, almost insignificant, yet it was settling in his chest; A steady warmth that lasted probably a few seconds before he went back to feel so-called neutral. He wished to chase after that feeling, wanting it to last without the need of an element to get him to that point. His shoulders slumped as he stared at his painting in the bit of silence he had left until Markus spoke up once more.

 

“You hide your emotions. Not to say it's a bad thing but it's also not good to bottle everything up. You definitely have people you can talk to so I think you should utilize them for when you have a lot on your mind.” Connor took in Markus' words and just blinked. It was true, he did hide his feelings but he did so because he didn't believe his feelings warrant any action for them. Clearly, that's him shying away from people but it was also one more thing that was holding him back.

 

“I— you're right… Maybe I don't trust people or something. I know they're out there to help me but at what cost?” Connor let out a sigh. “Them wasting their time on someone who won't get better?”

 

“There is no cost to them helping you. They benefit from seeing your progress. It may be their jobs but they all want to see you in a better place. And you will get better.” Markus' words always left him speechless. He stood silent, letting the reassurance settle in before he asked the million dollar question.

 

“Then why are you trying to help me? What do you gain from this?” And Markus was answering immediately as if he prepared for this question.

 

“Well, hopefully, to gain a new friend. Also, I like helping people so if I can be one more person that can help, I'll do my best.” Connor could never get over the way Markus smiled at him. It was friendly as ever but it served to bring that warmth back to his chest even if it was only for a fraction of the time.

 

Connor had way too many feelings running through his head to actually form a response. He appreciated the words, they made him feel a bit better than he did when he first walked into this studio. He felt a sense of… hopefulness. He knew the ugly cravings would consume him, knew the urges would resurface but he pressed those down for the time being.

 

“Thank you… I-I’ll do my best to get better. Everyone's says it'll take time and I have to take the time to better myself.” It felt weird saying those words. Connor never had too much hope in everything, seeing everything as a worst-case scenario, but he felt as if maybe he could _potentially_ get better.

 

“You do and you _will_.” Markus had placed a gentle hand on top of Connor’s hand that was on the table and Connor jumped in surprise before relaxing into the touch; Just the slightest bit of pink dusted his cheeks.

 

“I—So are we going to paint some more or are going to keep getting all sentimental?” He actually chuckled. As short as it was, he never really had anything to joke or laugh about. Markus chuckled too, removing his hand from Connor’s which only made the other wish to have that hand back for some reason or another.

 

“Right, we can paint some more and talk if you're up for it.”

 

“Just painting for now.” And Markus accepted that answer. He went to pull up a chair and got another easel with a canvas.

 

They spent the rest of the time painting with minimal small talk tossed in. The weight of the world seemed to disappear when Connor moved the paintbrush against the canvas. He's no artist by far but he was having _fun_ ; Something he never allowed or was allowed to have in all his 27 years of life. It was a good, strange feeling that he held onto to it as long as he could.

 

It will take time, but progression just might be closer than Connor had in mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 may take a bit more time to come out be it's the midterm week before spring break hhhhhh  
> Might be lucky to knock out 4 and 5 in a week though so be prepared :)  
> I'm having fun with this fic and I'm some of you are too!


	4. The Implications of Progression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things seem to really be looking up for Connor. This was all a learning experience after all; His recovery, though still happening, may not last as long as he anticipated. Friends, really do help, and one, in particular, had helped him more than he could count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look I'm not dead! I've had a shit ton to do before and during my spring break, but now I'm back for another update! I think there will be 3(?) more chapter to go so we're a little past the halfway point.  
> More psychological deep dive here we come.  
> And a sweeter ending as well :)

The psychological evaluation was yet another step in the multi-step process of Connor’s addiction recovery. He didn't want to do anything such as that at first but Lucy had suggested he do one to see if there was comorbidity, dual diagnosis, involved; Bless her soul for caring about him so much. Surely enough after answering questions to the best of his ability and by telling the exact truth, he was diagnosed comorbid with moderate depression, mild anxiety, as well the apparent substance use disorder that was already known. Now, when it came assessing these disorders, treatment options vary based on different outlooks.

 

Connor himself wanted to go the more serial approach to it where he worried more about his addiction rather than, as he called it, ‘silly’ mental health issues. Other approaches included doing treatment in a parallel manner where one could treat both the substance use disorder as well as the mental illness but it would be in separate facilities which, the model itself, was rather inefficient. The best option, which is the one everyone was pushing him to do, was the integrated model approach. The integrated model is usually better because it'll help treat his mental illness and substance use disorder at the same time in the same place while also being more accelerated. The downfall, it being too costly and Connor didn't need a reason to talk to Amanda of all people about more money.

 

More psychological garble.

 

He started with the serial method, thinking if he could combat the addiction, he could also kick his depressive tendencies. Starting out, the first few weeks, the cutting back started to really kick into gear. For Connor, it started out as expected; Constant withdrawal symptoms, those horrid shakes that would wrack through his body along with the continuous scratching of his skin. The cravings were stronger than usual and even worse when he _knew_ he had those little baggies still in his top drawer.

 

But again, he would take it as a grain of salt. He was going to take each day step by step with the bit of hope that was buried deep within him. They didn't cut him off completely but the limitations were deterring. The goal was to, after all, cut him off but it wasn't that easy and again, something such as stopping addiction would take time and, depending on the person, more time than others.

 

The individual therapy sessions were still rocky and yet Lucy never pried him too deeply. She wanted to dig into his mind, to see what was going on in there, but she did it in a manner that lets him speak on his own accord. Over the transpiring weeks, the conversation usually went “How are you feeling, Connor?” with Connor’s impromptu reply of “I'm fine.” and most might think it wasn't much. On the contrary, the fact he was actually responding at all was progress in itself. One day, he would be able to speak his mind, but only when he was ready.

 

With his dual diagnosis, it was decided to put him on a light anti-anxiety medication for starters. It would help with his paranoia form of withdrawing while also assisting in his anxious tendencies. Nothing was ever going to work in an instant, but between his individual sessions and the medication, he did begin to feel as if he could, eventually, talk about his feelings. Along with the added medication, he couldn't even use his drug no matter the urges since the reaction with drugs and medication would be nearly fatal.

 

It was weird how he was actually aware of life-threatening situations. He actually wanted to live out his life rather than risk it all. A few weeks really went a long way and he still had a journey to be held, but before, he always fell into a low point. That was what made him self-medicate in the first place after all but he slowly, but surely, kept thinking _where would I be in a year? 2 years? 5 years?_ And that future perspective he began to perceive and develop honestly was what kept him at bay. It wasn't that simple though, he'd go days in which those little demons began to conjure within him but he was getting ever so slowly better at managing those thoughts.

 

He could thank Markus for that.

 

He could thank a lot of people without saying it outright but within a month time, Markus was there for him more often than not. It was another strange thing; Connor still doesn't exactly understand why Markus would help him of all people, taking out his own hours of the day to be with him, but Connor did not mind it. If anything, he enjoyed the time he did spend having minimal small talk with Markus or painting with him as one of their few activities of coping.

 

And well…

 

He blamed Hank for making him think about the way he felt; His emotions were never really stable. Every time he and Markus had planned a get-together, Hank always teased him about it. It was annoying as ever but the fact that Hank even teased him about it made him really _think_ about some… possibilities. Connor didn't think it was worth it, didn't think anything would come of it but he _might_ have developed a crush on the acclaimed Markus Manfred. And it could just be Markus being a very good friend, but he was just so nice to Connor. No one had made him genuinely laugh, not to mention, once more, how Markus was doing all of this _for free_. It made that familiar warmth thump in his chest and he relished in that feel all the time as of late.

 

But he would never press something like a relationship, not with his mental state let alone his addictive state. Maybe when he was clean, sober, and abstinent from his drug, he could potentially see what would happen but he was a ways away from being at that point. And yet, he still didn't mind just being a friend to Markus. If that was all they would be, then so be it.

 

Speaking of their interaction, they were actually meeting up that day after Connor’s group therapy session. He had yet to actually open up about his problems but he was more attentive than usual. Also, with the medication, his little fidgets weren't so often and he was able to sit in his chair without being so paranoid. The therapy leader, Chloe, was very calm and helpful. She let others talk if they're willing, didn't condemn or chastised anyone for speaking, and when it came to Connor, she accepted his silence. Connor gained a few acquaintances in his group session as well. It was intriguing how people in those sessions were just like him but also so different from him in respects of their own reasoning behind being there.

 

A woman by the name of North told her story of the abuse cycle she's gone through. It was incredibly sad to hear but she, herself, said she was only there to let off steam before she did some very bad actions herself. She was hot-headed, but she was more than just rage; There was a woman who just wanted and did fight for her life. Simon was probably the closest like him. The man was getting over his meth addiction as well as his own psychiatric issues. He didn't really talk much unless spoken to and Connor definitely knew that feeling.

 

Probably one of the most estranged people he met was Josh, who was more than just a person; He was an android. It brought Connor back to that time when he subtly, not-so-subtly destroyed an android just to get the main source of his drug. He got overly paranoid hearing how Josh was tormented by college kids and left to die. He talked about how human felt fear, but androids also felt that same frightful feeling. Connor was fascinated though; He was indifferent on the intelligent life form that was androids, but hearing one speak about their pain, maybe human and androids weren't so different after all. A small weight was lifted off his shoulders that had once weighed his conscience down.

 

When it came to having those friends, they made almost a mini friend group of their own. They would stay and talk a bit after periodical group meetings. Just simply talking about the meeting and how everyone was doing and that alone was making Connor feel better about himself. Each and every one of them was fighting their own battles, trial, and tribulations of their own issues, and Connor himself actually began to feel more empathetic toward them. Making more friends helped him with his own inept sociability.

 

They, too, teased him when Markus picked him up. He had grown used to it over the course of the months passing by and really, it made him a little happy knowing he had friends to talk about these types of things with. Well, not _certain_ things yet at least because he didn't know his exact feelings, but having an even smaller group of people to talk to make him feel like a good person among other friends.

 

It became almost a routine for Markus to pick him up from his therapy sessions both weekly individual and monthly group. Hank gave Markus the okay to do so since it did help Connor get closer to Markus in that regard. In the grand scheme of things, he really had gotten even closer to Markus enough to talk more exclusively rather than just his own issues. It started with a small talk which slowly expanded to talking about TV shows and favorite songs, normal everyday talk.

 

Connor would catch himself staring when Markus spoke. He'd get lost in those eyes, the words spoken sending him into a trance. It usually wasn't until Markus asked if he was okay would he let out an embarrassing laugh, a blush forming from cheek to cheek as he said he was fine. The way Markus spoke was so captivating and engaging and yet even though he talked of his interests, Connor still always wondered one thing that had been itching at him to ask.

 

He popped such a question when he and Markus were hanging out alone at the little art studio. He had gotten significantly better at painting with the aid of Markus; Blobs becoming more artistic and he had grown almost comfortable in that place. The silence between them was a nice feeling of solace that Connor could never get enough of. Though, he didn't dwell on the silence for too long, placing his paintbrush down and turning more towards Markus who already had a curious look spread across his face.

 

“You look like you have something to say. What's on your mind?” Markus asked him, placing his own painting material down so he could face him. Connor’s heart had been doing the thing where it would beat faster than normal and he was sure his face had a tinge of pink across it. He inhaled, holding in the breath for a bit before letting it out.

 

“You always check in with me about how _l’m_ doing. I don't mind it at all and I most definitely welcome it, but I don't know much about _you_. I would have never met you if I didn't see you in one my first group meetings and I've always just wanted to know, if you're willing, how are _you_ feeling?” Curiosity killed the cat and it definitely made Markus go rigid in his spot. It's an expression Connor had yet to see Markus wear and he himself grew a bit anxious just waiting for a response that could possibly not come.

 

Markus seemed to relax then, not saying anything but the tension he held seemed to dwindle just a bit.

 

“Sorry I—” Connor was ready to apologize before he was swiftly cut off.

 

“No, no it's fine. I’m fine _now_ —” And Markus was the one taking in a breath before releasing it in a deep sigh. “I just… I pretty much lost everything I had, and in the worst way possible I might add.” Connor didn't say a word, didn't utter a sound, staying as silent as he could.

 

Markus went quiet as well, seemed as if he was thinking a few things over. “It's… not every day when you walk home thinking things would be normal. You know, just getting your keys out, walking into your home and then seeing your father and brother lying and covered in a pool of blood on the living room floor. Hell, I almost lost my life that day. Glad I knew how to fight or I might not be alive, or at least an able-body.”

 

The ball really dropped and shattered into a million pieces.

 

Connor kind of just blinked, eyes widening as he took in the new information that he didn't expect to hear. He definitely didn't want to pry especially with such a touchy subject no matter how curious he was. Then he started to feel terrible because he didn't want to open up any old wounds that might have healed for the other. Markus didn't seem too fazed by his own words but Connor can't see inside his head to know what he was thinking. He can barely respond to such a tragedy, not knowing if there were even words to speak.

 

“I'm so sorry, Markus. I—” And he tried giving some form of condolences but Markus waved him off.

 

“It was years ago… no need to feel sorry for me. I've been doing a lot better than I was.” Even with something as heavy as this, Markus was still optimistic, still progressing in his own endeavors. “I kept blaming myself even though it was such an irrational thought. All I knew was anger, I shut everyone out, and when I almost did something so unforgivable, that's when I knew I needed to get my life on track.” Those last few words were what hit close to home for Connor. He had been in that position when he knew he had to make a change or he most likely wouldn't be alive.

 

Connor remained silent a bit longer. He tried to not let the bit of anxiety crawl up his neck as the quietness overcame them. But then he clears his voice, choosing his words more carefully to respond with.

 

“I'm glad you got the help you needed. Something as tragic as that must not have been easy to deal with in the slightest, but getting the help you needed was the step in the right direction. And I guess I can take it a bit further and say I'm glad to have met you.” His emotions started to really come down upon him as he continued to speak. “You're unbelievable kind. You've helped me more than I would have thought and I'm so grateful.” And he might be wearing his feelings on his sleeve, but he could still be admirable without blurting out that slow burning crush he developed.

 

The smile Markus made only made it more obvious that yes, he might as well been head over heels for him. How could he not? Someone who took time out of their day to spend time with him, to help him, and Connor had half the mind to believe Markus could feel the same way, but he wasn't going to get his hopes up. Emotions were too fragile and explosive, he himself was still in the process of getting better so he was pretty sure Markus didn't see him as anything more than a friend.

 

“I'm very glad to have met you too. It might not seem like it to you, but you also make my days a bit better. You're good company.” Him? Making someone's day? He didn't think he could believe such words but hearing them from Markus made those butterflies swarm his stomach as well as a bit more pink dust over his cheeks.

 

He didn't know how to respond, letting the silence come between them. With all the emotions bubbling up inside him he couldn't help but cherish the moment. It was weird to not be so jittery or sad or literally any after effect of his drugs. He didn't even think about the red ice he had, his mind only on Markus.

 

He took the bit of silence to reflect on where he was now in his progression. He wasn't one hundred percent clean but it's been roughly a month since the last time he did those little lines of powder. The medication had helped him also stay clean and he began to actually feel other emotions rather just sadness, defeat, other pessimistic phrases that he was so used to. He thought about friends from therapy and the few people who have helped him along the way. He actually felt hopeful that he could, in fact, stay clean.

 

Then his mind went back to Markus, reminding him of all the good Markus had done for him thus far. He could always speak of Markus in high regards. Someone who made sure he was okay, someone who was nice to him even back when he didn't want to have anything to do with the other. Markus actually considered him not only a friend, but someone who also has helped him and that steady warmth in his chest grew the more he sat there basking in this fond feeling he had.

 

“Thank you for everything thus far.” He broke the small silence that was held as words began to spill out of him. “I honestly don't think I would have made it this far without your help. I'm prone to bad thoughts and behaviors. It had taken me so long to get to where I am and I wouldn't have if you didn't talk to me on the phone that one night those few months back.” He was getting overly sentimental, all that pent up emotions just started to waterfall without warning.

 

Then Markus' smile seemed to soften into that content sort of way and Connor can't help but think how handsome he was, how great he was, and—

 

“You calling me was probably the best thing you could have done when being emotionally unstable with no other options to go to in the middle of the night. But—” Then Markus' words fell flat, he seemed unsure of what he wanted to say. Connor sensed the hesitation and before he could address the uncertainty, Markus started speaking again. “Share if you're willing, but I've been wondering what made you call me that night of all nights. You don't have to say and I won't pry at you either.”

 

Connor’s world paused.

 

Putting the limelight onto him was suffocating. It made him shrink into himself so quickly just thinking back to that awful night in question. He never wanted to voice anything about what he did or why he did it and so far, he never had spoken about it out of embarrassment. Connor had pushed that memory so far down he almost forgotten about, but the question opened that wound up and dug salt into it.

 

It used to haunt him. He used to get so upset with himself about what he did, but then he started to slowly forget it ever happened. Well, forgetting and accepting something are two different aspects of dealing with a situation and going down the forgetting path wasn't always the best choice. Getting reminded of old memories was like getting hit by a car and the impact shattered every good thought he had.

 

He must have looked frightened because Markus' face dropped to a worrying frown. Connor wanted to play it off, but his mind began to replay the events of that night and an overwhelming amount of dread started coming over him. _The smoke, those dirty hands, those disgusting words, and worst of all, how he did it on his own accord_. He was on the verge of tears from just the memory alone mixed with the instant berating he started to internalize—

 

It had been a while since he started thinking he needed _something_ to make him feel better.

 

Before he could really start thinking about running out the studio, he felt a pair of arms wrap around him. He didn't remember the last time someone showed any sort of affection towards him. Maybe when he was a kid but that alone had been years ago. Feeling the warmth engulf him tied into his emotions cascading around him, he let his tears fall. His voice trembled into a weak sob as he cried out not even caring if his voice carried a little louder.

 

“I'm so, so sorry for triggering you. You don't ever have to tell me what happened. I shouldn't have asked.” The last thing Connor wanted was for Markus to blame himself for his vulnerability. He should be strong enough to speak; Speaking about it would be the first time he really opened up to someone about that distant memory.

 

“I-I used to believe that by any means necessary, get the drug.” He did his best to calm down; The embrace making it a bit easier to do so. “I was low on funds and I was desperate. I was already in debt to my dealer, who's an asshole by the way, and—”

 

His words cut off as if he was preventing himself from speaking of what he had endured. He choked on the lump in his throat, trying to swallow it down so he could speak again.

 

“You don't have to tell me anything anymore—”

 

“I know I don't have to do anything, but I think I need to, I _want_ to.” Tears do begin to fall once more but his voice stayed quiet. This was probably the hardest thing he had ever done, getting over a roadblock that was his pent up feelings. He hadn't really spoken of his problems much in his therapy sessions but for some odd reason, he was entirely comfortable speaking about this with Markus.

 

He took in a shaky breath before continuing on.

 

“Desperation makes you do very….fucked up things. My dealer he— He proposed something rather unspeakable and I fell right for it because I knew I'd get the drugs I needed.” Then his voice got really small, speaking the next few words made him nearly want to throw up. “Putting my clothes back on… The smell of smoke was suffocating, that disgusting smug look he wore—” It felt like he was reliving the event but he stood grounded, doing his best to get it all out. “And the worst part? I _agreed_ to it. Afterward, I left as quickly as I could, made it home, and contemplated snorting a whole bag because I've never felt so goddamn low in my life.”

 

He paused then, taking the chance to pull back from the long embrace to get a better look at Markus. He saw the worry painted across Markus' face like one of those mood painting they've spoken about. As he said his next few words, his own expression softened, feeling a bit more weight lifting off his shoulders.

 

“Calling you… it saved my life. I know, it sounds crazy, but I don't think I'd be sitting here if you didn't answer the phone.” It sounded like he was over exaggerating but he was _ver_ y close to a fatal overdose if he didn't have some form of comfort that night. His racing thoughts seemed to calm down as he finished speaking of that dreadful night. He felt… lighter. He had always been held back from speaking but it actually made him feel a lot better than before.

 

Strangely enough, he began to smile like he was happy to get something off his chest. Markus seemed to lighten up too, a small, reassuring smile forming on his face.

 

“I'm glad you are here. I'm glad you've been doing better and if you're ever in need, I'm always a phone call or a text message away. You're stronger than you think. You'll conquer whatever is thrown at you, I know it.” And there's something in Markus' words that made his heart hammer in his chest, fluttering with a fondness that he didn't want to get rid of.

 

The closeness between them was closer than Connor could register but it only felt like a force was tugging him even closer. His irrational emotions were soon taking over his rational thought and before he realized it, he had barely pressed his lips against Markus' lips. He wasn't sure what made him do it but once he did, he recoiled back so quickly he almost fell out if his chair.

 

“Oh no, oh fuck! I'm sorry, I'm—” He expected a lot of things to happen; Maybe a reprimand, a slap to the face would've also been acceptable. Markus pulling him back in for a more proper kiss wasn't something he would think would happen at all but all he could do was melt against those lips.

 

It was quick, not lasting more than a few seconds before they pulled away a mere couple of inches apart. Connor had forgotten how to breathe. He felt like he was dreaming because there was no way this could be happening.

 

“I've been wanting to do that for a while.”

 

Connor laughed at the statement.

 

“Likewise.” Then their lips meet once more, a slow sensual kiss lasting only a little longer than the last. When they pulled back once more, Connor was overly giddy, nearly beaming with what seemed to be the realization of mutual attraction.

 

Then, again, they chased after each other's lips still keeping it slow, steady, but a lingering kiss that only had them pulling back enough to breathe. Markus' lips were soft and meshed against his so perfectly that it made him almost dizzy.

 

“Thank you.” Connor was able to breathlessly get those words out before his lips were captured again for another round of kisses.

 

He felt appreciated, hopeful, and most of all, he felt _good_. The future of recovery was actually in reach and Connor couldn't be happier.

 

And well, being able to kiss Markus in the meantime was a plus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the actually rk1k aspect can be used. I like soft bois giving soft kisses alright  
> Also if you're enjoying this as much as me, don't be afraid to leave a nice little comment. It makes me extra happy seeing people enjoy this silly little thing <3


	5. Falling off the Wagon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slipping isn't the worst; Sometimes slipping can be the absolute worst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hhhhhhhhhhhhi  
> All Imma say for now is oops ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

A psychological slip might happen to anyone going through drug detox or rehabilitation. Staying abstinent or cutting down drug intake was something people struggle with more often than not. Now, a slip was more than a moment of weakness; It comes about from any sort of pressures or stressors when cravings began to take over. It was not the end of the world; It was a learning curve to do better than one had done prior to staying on track of drug reduction or remaining clean. It happened to the best of people and a slip did not mean a complete relapse. Drug addiction is a nasty little thing, but coming out and being stronger than those little triggers was what made people better than their addiction.

 

For Connor, he thought he could go without a single slip. He had made it to almost three months in detox without using any drugs, which was fantastic in itself. Any sort of cravings he had were subdued; He never had any urges even when he still had a little red ice left; _That he was meaning to throw out,_ but never did because he usually forgot he had any. He felt capable enough to keep up maintaining his abstinence, going each day with very minimal withdraw effects on his body.

 

That was until one day when Markus came by to hang out.

 

Going back a bit, he and Markus were in the limbo of being in a relationship and not necessarily being in one. The whole kiss thing sort of jarred into both of them that maybe kissing after sharing traumatic experiences wasn't actually a good thing to do. So they obviously talked about it when their heads were a bit better and both came to the conclusion that mental health was the most important thing. Let's just say that labels don't matter and they could be considered whatever they damn well pleased. They were basically best friends that kiss every once in a while and cuddle with each other which was totally okay. Again once thing began to get better for both of them, that was when they could start throwing in those dumb labels.

 

In any rate, Connor had invited Markus over to his house to hang out. He had grown a bit more confident in himself; Had grown more willing to do more things in life besides lay around all day with his thoughts. Seeing Markus always warmed his heart to no ends; He never knew he could fall for some as wonderful Markus in the first place but he felt almost indebted to him. Not like he owed anything, but Markus really had done so much for him.

 

Connor dressed in only a t-shirt and ripped jeans, he knew he didn't have to dress up for the occasion staying as informal and comfortable as possible. His stomach swarmed with butterflies as his heart hammered in his chest when he heard that little knock on the door, perking up as a smile had spread across his face.

 

 He was truly head over heels for Markus.

 

In hindsight, Connor had grown able to keep control over his addictive tendencies or craving and urges. A few months down the line and he was able to reduce the amount of therapy he needed, plus the medication he had did make him even less anxious and more in tune with the things around him. Lucy was actually pleased to get him to talk a bit about his issues and even she has seen significant improvement. It was probably the first time in a long time in which he thought he was okay, better than okay. He was _good_. He had little to no worries and many have made him feel better as he bettered himself. He could never thank everyone so much and also, he commended himself for his progression.

 

But sometimes, a roadblock got in the way.

 

He and Markus have grown affectionate towards each other. Again, the whole couple thing was a little muddy, but as long as they were having fun with each other, it didn’t matter what they were. Upon hearing his door being knocked on, he quickly got up from where he was and went to answer it. Though within the few second Connor opened the door, things started going… south. It was unexpected, but once he greeted Markus with a usual hug, the smell that entered his nose and soon perfumed the air, was overwhelming. He knew of the smell; It was potent, smelling almost equivalent to a skunk and it made him retract away from Markus sporadically.

 

“Didn't think my old jacket was _that_ ugly to warrant you to pull away so quickly.” Markus joked around, laughing at the reaction before his laughter was cut short upon getting a better look at Connor’s frantic face. “Is everything okay—”

 

“Do you smoke… Marijuana?” And the question was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He wasn't sure why he was acting this way. It was almost like his body went into a full defense mechanism against any drug that dare tempt him. Though both medical and recreational Marijuana was legal in the state of Michigan, that didn’t stop Connor from thinking more and more about someone actually doing it. Markus blinked for a moment before his eyes down-casted towards the floor, his feet shuffling in place.

 

“I— it's medical Marijuana and well… I smoke only ever so often…”

 

 

“And you never told me?” No, Connor wasn't mad. As much as he could feel his blood boil ever so, he could not be mad at Markus. If anything, it felt like his body was reacting to the new knowledge. The smell alone was still there, making his mind grow a little unsavory. He didn't want to touch a single drug; Did his best thus far to stay away even from the least harmful ones, but those thoughts began to form quicker than he could stop them.

 

_Why would someone smoke weed?_

_Did it make them feel better?_

_Did they feel… high?_

_Did they feel that rush?_

_Euphoric relaxation?_

 

And within the span of a few minutes and a worried look from Markus, Connor finally snapped himself out of his thoughts.

 

No, he shouldn't get so worked up over the situation. He was more rational than ever from his steady progress, so he took a deep breath to relax. He let any sort of bad feelings drift away into an abyss just so he could calm his emotions down. The silence between him and Markus was bitter, the atmosphere growing thinner the quieter they were.

 

“S-sorry I… I didn't mean to snap at you like that. It's just… Drugs—”

 

“No, I should have known better. I did it earlier in the day and the smell takes forever to get out. I'm so sorry.” Markus had quickly taken off his jacket, folding it up and placing it down _outside_ before he fully stepped into Connor’s house.

 

“Markus, you didn't have to—”

 

“I wanted to. For you.” And the statement, though it sounded considerate, kind of made Connor feel bad. He didn't want Markus changing his habit because of him; He should be able to not be tempted by a drug that wasn’t even there. He didn't comment anymore on it but soon they were both situated on the couch.

 

Connor wanted things to be normal, he wanted just hanging out with Markus to be as simple as it usually was but he couldn't help the smallest urge from forming inside of him.

 

_No… No, he couldn't. He never would._

 

Even thinking about it made his mind stop for a moment. He didn't need any sort of relief and if he did, he wouldn't resort to the means of getting some form of relaxation from getting high. He would abstain; A few months in and he wasn't going to stall his progress over a little smell of weed—

 

Well, he wished his body and mind were on the same page.

 

His mind knew that he should never even fathom using any drug, that wasn't prescribed or over the counter, ever again. He hammered that notion into his head for the past few months and soon, he was able to withstand any triggers that would come his way.

 

The bodily response though, that was a bit harder to deal with. That very first whiff of the scent on Markus' jacket sent Connor reeling to regain himself. His body had a sort of buzzing sensation going on inside of him; A need that spread all over his body that made him fidget when he and Markus were embraced together.

 

It felt like he could still smell it; Like he was almost able to _feel_ it. He's never smoked Marijuana before, but he's heard stories of being high, how it felt, and it sounded… _good_ — No, this wasn't going to be a trigger for him. He knew he knew his thoughts were getting bad when he pretty much tuned out the movie they were watching just to let his mind go haywire.

 

His replies were shorter when Markus asked him about the things in the movie. His appetite had left him when the food had arrived; He just… didn't feel like himself. Markus seemed to catch on a bit to his behavior, asking if everything was okay in which Connor perked up and pretended that he was okay. And Markus never pried at him unless it was something noticeably serious so their conversation was rather short on that matter.

 

It felt like an old stimulus was missing. A certain something that, without it, made those cravings slowly start to appear. Connor felt so off as time went by. It wasn't until Markus was leaving that curiosity began to dance around in his head. _Would snorting one line truly matter?_ Yes, yes it would, but Connor began to rationalize how it wouldn't be _that_ bad.

 

He knew he wouldn't get that high, maybe a buzz of sorts from just doing a single line. The temptation began to spark inside him. He took a few moments to assess his thoughts and he kept tricking himself into believing that doing just one line wouldn't affect him much at all.

 

When Connor was alone, he went to his room and retrieved the small hidden baggie that he used to dare not open. In those moments, he tried to not to think about the small voice inside him saying how the few months of abstaining were going down the drain. He was antsy, almost giddy when he got those small pieces of paper he hadn’t used for so long; An index card to form the line and a piece to roll up to make it easier to consume.

 

It was so familiar; Dumping a small amount on his nightstand, gathering the powder in a thin red line before he got the paper he had rolled up. There was a part of him that knew this was wrong, knew that doing that line would put a pause in his progression—

 

But then he did it.

 

A quick, not so easy sniff of the powder until the line was soon gone. That unmistakable burn was present for a bit before it ebbed away. It had been so long since he felt just that small, warm buzz running rampant in his body, just the smallest hint of euphoria but not too much; Just right. He kind of just stared at the baggie for a moment or two before it really dawned on him what exactly he just did.

 

He quickly put the baggie away right back into his drawer. Oddly enough, he didn't feel too bad about doing it. He remembered all the things taught to him about slipping and how he shouldn't berate himself for doing so just this once. He wasn't justifying it by any means and his urge to do more was nonexistent; It happened and he wasn't going to do it again.

 

Connor did his best to make sure his mind didn't see the bad in doing the drug. He knew he had a problem, knew that he abstained thus far. Though he slipped, it truly wasn't the end of the world, he could get back on track. He commended himself for not actually freak out over this; He really was doing so much better, becoming stronger.

 

It might be a small bump in the road, but he wasn't going to let temptations falter his progression anymore.

 

\---

A couple of weeks went by in which Connor did slip a little. He didn’t reprimand himself, tried to keep a somewhat positive outlook on things, and continued on with his progression. Though, visiting his mother was probably not on the list of things he wished to do.

 

“Hello, Connor. It's nice to see you again.”

 

When Amanda had asked for him to visit, he wanted so much to say no, but knowing her, she'd never let it go. Sitting there with her was probably one of the most stressful times of his life. No amount of anxiety medication could ease the worry down. The stare she gave him was neutral but he could see past that facade, he knew she was ready to berate him as she had for years. Her smile looked soft, almost looked understanding, but Connor knew better than to let his guard down. He did his best to appear on top of things; He wore a more casual outfit just to appease her, wanting to feel more put together, chin elevated for elegance. Anything to appear like he had a good head on his shoulders.

 

He never missed the house he was in, or rather _her_ house. Sitting in one of the few chairs in the spacious living room made him feel incredibly out of place. He had grown accustomed to his normal size living space, the roomie feeling it brought, and just about anything that was his house was the opposite of where he was. It was suffocating at the very least, the air thinning the more he continued to sit there with his anxiety.

 

“Hello, mother. It's… nice to see you too.” Which was not very true and even more difficult to not sound like he didn't want to be there, but he kept his own facade up, not wanting to crack under her whim. His chest had tightened, he was anxious but he did his best to keep telling himself that things would be fine, nothing bad will happen.

 

“How have you’ve been? I heard your progress has been very good so far. I am proud of you, Connor.” It was crazy how condescending she could sound like this. It didn't help that he didn't have much to say considering he much rather be with Markus or even home alone… _maybe with the remains of his red ice_.

 

He had some control over himself. He wouldn't let himself slip as he had once… a few time… He was dumb enough to keep the remains as a _just in case_ scenario and honestly for testing his own restraints. He wasn't going to stoop that low because of a small trigger; He believed he was stronger than that and his mother couldn't be another roadblock to his progression.

 

“I've been doing fine. Taking it each day nice and easy.” Connor responded plainly, eyeing the woman in front of him to see if she had something patronizing to say.

 

“That's good. Keep doing your very best, son.” Was she… actually trying to be considerate? Connor would laugh at the irony but he was too in his head to do anything but be as diligent as he could be.

 

“Thank you.” He said pointedly, not wanting to say much more.

 

He saw the way her neutral look changed. It became more curious as if she was thinking or wanting to ask him something. Connor didn't like questions or if anyone tried to pry at him in general. He was used to having the ability to talk if he pleased but knowing Amanda, she'd make him talk. She's unnecessarily convincing and Connor knew better than to not respond when spoken to. That's something he learned in his youth.

 

“You seem a little quiet right now. Is everything alright?”

 

“I'm fine.” He was quicker to respond then he intended, but he cleared his throat before speaking once more. “Everything is fine.”

 

“You know lying doesn't get you anywhere, right? If something is on your mind, you should tell me about it.” There it goes. That moment he was waiting to happen and yet he would truly never be prepared for it. Amanda did this thing, which is exactly how things were going, where she would seem like she cared, turn it into a guilt trip, and the end results were never pretty.

 

“I said I'm fine. I'm… better than ever. Really, I am.” Which was true to an extent. Looking past his few slips, he was doing better and he knew he could keep himself grounded enough not to slip again.

 

“I'll believe you for now. Have you looked for any jobs recently? Seeing anyone special? What's going on in your life, Connor?” Ah yes, more prying about him rather than having normal conversations. _Perfect_.

 

“I've scouted a few places.” Which was a lie, actually. “But I also wanted to make sure I was stable enough to do a job thoroughly without any hiccups.” And that much was on the money. He felt stable, but with his recent slips, he wanted to make sure everything was 100% again. He also left out the whole _special person_ tidbit because he definitely didn't need her digging in his private life.

 

“Hmmm, so you don't think you're stable enough. What's holding you back? Falling back into… your old habits?” His eyes widened at the accusation. No….no he wasn't going to fall for the bait. He was going to keep up what he sort of rehearsed prior to actually coming to talk to her.

 

“N-no… I'm trying to make sure I'm able to do a job. More so my anxious tendencies than anything.”

 

“Well, that's why I paid for your medication, correct? So you could control your anxiety. Let me know and you'll get an upped dosages. You're going to have to get back on your feet without my help someday, Connor.”

 

Ouch.

 

Connor flinched a little at the wording. _Help?_ Another ironic thing to laugh about. All Amanda has done thus far was indeed pay for his treatment, medication, and some extra for food, but she had not once called him to ask if he was doing okay; Kind of like what a mom should do. He would rather receive a few calls every once in a while but clearly, she had more important things than to check up on her one only son.

 

“I—” And he didn't know exactly what to say. His goal was to get back on his feet, to eventually do things more on his own and he had been doing that, steadily. Months down the line of progression and slips and he did his best not to reprimand himself for a few mistakes. That was all a part of the journey after all and he was going to continue on as best as he could.

 

“I will have a job someday. I'll be out of your pockets soon enough.”

 

“I expect sooner rather than later, Connor. I see improvements but you can do better.”

 

And that was what hit him the hardest.

 

He was doing better, he was giving his all just to stay relatively abstinent and it _still_ wasn't enough? He shouldn't take her words at face value. He knew how she was, knew she only looked for absolute excellence, but he tricked himself into thinking that what he had already accomplished wasn’t good enough. It didn't sit well with him, and it might be due to the fact that it was ingrained into him that _Amanda was always right_.

 

It made him feel incomplete.

 

_Made him feel like a failure._

 

He tried to shake the sinking feeling that began to form inside of him. He thought about his progression, thought about his slips, and the rational side of his brain began to get overshadowed by a part that wanted to resurface. He didn't know what else he should be doing. His urges were down, he took his medication daily, he had a whole mental checklist in his head and yet—

 

“Connor? You spaced out for a moment. If you're tired or anything you can leave whenever.” Connor could only blink.

 

_You can do better_.

 

The way those words fell from her mouth began made it feel like he was slapped in the face. He… could do better. He shouldn't have had any slips in the first place… He was still… _weak_. He wasn't sure if he was more frustrated with himself or Amanda at that moment. A small part of him tried to condemn any unwanted thoughts from running amok but all he could do was sit in that chair as he began to internally reprimand himself.

 

“Yes… I-I’m tired. I think… I'll take my leave then… Goodbye m-mother.” His voice had grown so small, his pride getting stomped into the ground as he soon began to rise from his chair slowly before making his way towards the door.

 

“See you later, Connor. Again, if you ever want to talk, you know my availability.” And she had the audacity to wave him off like everything was fine, like what she said was _fine_.

 

He left quickly, deciding to walk to his house instead of hailing a taxi; He didn’t want to be cooped up in a small place. He could probably stop by the art studio to see if Markus was there, but he was too in his head for that. He needed to be alone and away from people just so he could clear his mind. It felt like everyone was watching him. His dear friend paranoia was out to play, making it seem as if others walking past him could see right through his progression and pick at his flaws. He felt like he was going to have a panic attack at any given moment but people didn't need to see how weak he was.

 

Amanda thought he was weak.

 

Connor could feel the disappointment clinging to him when they spoke and it only stayed with him as he traveled all the way home. Once he reached his house, he felt a small sense of peace within himself. Though, peace never really lasted that long because all his mind could do his replay those unforgivable words from his _mother_. As much as he didn't want her to have anything to do with his life, deep down, he always wanted to impress her; The ideology rooted so deep within him.

 

He couldn’t shake the feeling of dread bubbling up inside of him. Those annoying urges started to form, telling him exactly how he could relax. He fell for it again, like he had done a few times already; The cravings and the wish to feel remotely relaxed had pushed him without even thinking.

 

Connor found himself in his room, his dresser drawer opened, that bag of powder looking just as appealing. He hated himself so much then; Hated how doing something such as drug taking seemed like the only way to calm down. And when he did that one line, his body had the response mechanism of relaxation after a few minutes. It wasn't true euphoria, but before he got ahead of himself, he quickly tossed the baggie back into the drawer, slamming it shut.

 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_.

 

Once that subtle high subdued, he broke down crying at what he recently did, immediately calling Markus just for a bit of comfort. It was the first time he actually told Markus about his slips. He didn't want Markus worrying about him and for the most part, he was doing alright when he did slip a bit. He was better at reminding himself on how far he made it, how slips were a part of the progression, but one or two slips were fine, more seemed like he _was_ falling back into old habits.

 

Markus was over at his house in flash. Connor had insisted that just talking on the phone would be fine but Markus, bless his soul, was already telling him how he was on his way over. Upon getting there, he told Markus about every slip he had so far. It wasn't too many, most likely a handful, but it still made him feel horrible about himself. Markus' reassurance always helped him through the tough times of self-deprecation. He explained how slips were likely to happen but it didn't mean everything was truly over. Learning from one's mistakes is what made one stronger.

 

Connor was able to clear his mind of impurities. Markus' soothing voice pulled him out of his dark, swimming thoughts and he soon began to actually take in the words. Slipping was not too bad. If he could recollect himself, take in his mistakes, and just be aware in general, he could continue on in his recovery. It was all a part of the treacherous cycle that was drug detox.

 

Besides Markus' words, hugs also made Connor feel better, so when Markus embraced him, the rest of his worries melted away. At that moment, he vowed to not slip again. He'll get back on his feet, find a job, and prove not only to Amanda but to himself that he would be fine in the long run.

 

\---

**_A few weeks later_ **

 

Connor was absolutely going off the walls.

 

He did it again.

 

It was just one line…

 

But he did it when he knew he had something important to do.

 

He knew better. He knew he shouldn't have dug into his drawer again and pull out that nearly forgotten baggie. There was only enough for a single line anyways but he went ahead and did that line, thinking it would make him feel just a little bit better. Was there a reason? That time around, not exactly except for those once tamed urges beginning to take over his body again. He would blame it on being unnecessarily irritable as of late; Stressed about finding a job, stressed about his relationship, which was completely unnecessary, and just… _stressed_.

 

He tried to calm himself down. He had slipped a few time before and yet it felt like it was the end of the world when he did it again. It was probably because he took Amanda's unforgettable words more seriously and they only stayed swarming in his brain ever since he had spoken with her.

 

_Making it so far just to fuck it all up_.

 

_You can do better._

 

No, no this wasn't too bad. His mind ran frantic but he knew he would be okay—

 

The cravings were none stop. They remind him of the euphoria he could have, that stress relief he wished for, but he couldn't self-medicate like that anymore under any circumstances. He didn't need to fall back into old habits but that ugly temptation was there, telling him that if he wanted to feel better, he could just get _more_.

 

Not today, not ever. Especially not when Markus was picking him up soon so they could go on a date. It was a special day too; It could be count as a five-month anniversary of sorts if Connor was really keeping count. Just him and Markus out together, enjoying each other without a care in the world—

 

But he just had to ruin any chances he had with Markus.

 

_Stop._

 

He did his best to remind himself how all his progress was still good even when apart of him thought his progress was thrown out the window. That familiar tug of war was back; The _I want_ vs _I shouldn't_ rage war inside his head. The war went even deeper than that though; It played on his subconscious on whether or not things will be alright or… if he will just continue to fall.

 

He was seated on the couch in his living room, running his hands through his once styled hair as his eyes trained directly on that empty baggie. He needed to throw it away since all it did was mock him of how it once used to be full. He stood up, getting his bearings, body shaking as his fingers began to fidget when he took a hold of the empty bag. Each step he took towards the trash can was tantalizing, a sense of foreboding loomed over him. Throwing the bag away did nothing for him except made him wish he had another baggie—

 

_No, he couldn't. He wouldn't._

 

This was beyond frustrating. If he just never slipped in the first place, he wouldn't be chasing after something he shouldn't have. It's been so long since he had been reliant on a substance to curb his problem. All those months ago when each day was a new high, a new feeling of relief, and God, _he needed to calm down_.

 

He needed another means of calming himself down that wouldn't be detrimental. One method was deep breathing and muscle relaxation; Learned those from Markus himself. Starting out he sat back down on his couch, taking in deep breaths while conceptualizing a muscle group, tensing the group up for a bit before relaxing. He did the same thing for different muscle groups; Tensing his arms before relaxing them, tensing his legs up too until he could feel his body and mind relaxing down. He felt lighter. It took some time, but soon he could feel everything relax; He was fine, everything was fine.

 

There was soon a knock on the door and Connor’s heart fluttered in joy. Markus was a bit early then planned but Connor didn't mind that one bit and it would be nice to keep his mind on that idea rather than dwell on others. He stretched his limbs out before he stood up, going towards the door and not even thinking about actually checking who it was; A gentle smile present across his face.

 

To his extreme surprise, it was not Markus at all.

 

His smile faltered, falling into a complete shock.

 

It had been a while since he saw that disgustingly smirking face, those beady eyes boring into him, and that face filled with nothing more than amusement.

 

“Hey Connor, long time no see. Missed me?” Gavin Reed in the flesh. That crude voice carried a tone to it that Connor didn't like. He didn't even know why he was wasting his time with him.

 

“No, I didn't miss you.” He said a matter of factually in which Reed gave him an over dramatic look, clutching his heart as if it was pained.

 

“Ouch, and here I thought I was a long-time friend.”

 

“You're no _friend_ of mine now go away, you're not needed here—” Then his words stopped in his tracks when Reed pulled out a small baggie with that unforgettable red ice in it. Connor had half the mind to slam the door in his face but something inside him kept him grounded as if there was some interest in staying there.

 

“Well, even if you don't like me, _this_ probably catches your eye. Bet you missed this a lot, huh?” The chuckle Reed made had Connor tensing up and nearly curling in on himself. He eyed the substance and he felt so disgusted in himself for actually considering the small baggie, though he resisted the urge.

 

“N-no… I didn't. I-I don't want that stuff anymore.”

 

“Ah, but here's the thing, you might not _want_ it, but I bet you _need_ it. Am I correct?” _No_ , a part of Connor wanted to say but he couldn't muster up the verbal words. Though his expression was that of mild disgust, his eyes trained on that little baggie with more interest than he tried to suppress.

 

He stood there silently which wasn't a good move because his brain, as well as his body, started to betray him. The more he saw that powder, the more his body began to tingle, the craving began to rear its ugly head, and yet he only stood there, wordless.

 

“So I _am_ right? Just as fucking pathetic as I remembered. You know what, I was gonna sell this to you, but as a once loyal customer and old pal, it's on the house. That’s right, free of charge.” The laugh at the end of his words was more cynical. Connor didn’t know a smirk could grow almost evil like, but that ulterior motive seemed to be present; Slowly beating Connor out of his mentality.

 

“No, I-”

 

“Come on, I know you missed it. Nothing beats a red ice high, you know that. I’m doing you a favor is all. So here,” Reed held out the baggie towards Connor, shaking the content around, shoving the appeal into his face. “Take it and I guarantee you’ll feel 100% better.”

 

This was bad.

 

Connor was losing himself. The red powder seemed so vibrant, calling for him to use it. His control was slipping; He had lasted for so long in this situation but he was caving into those temptations, not even realizing how he was extending his hand out to retrieve such a thing but he retracted his hand quickly. He had only so much restraint left in him so he stood his ground in hope that Reed would just take a hint and leave him be.

 

“N-no! I don't want it, I-I don't _need_ it so just leave me alone! I'll call the cops right now if you don't leave.” And he glared, his blood was boiling, fist clenching as he tried to appear as if he was in control.

 

And Reed just shrugged his shoulders, looking unphased from the threat. “Then I guess I'll be on my way, but first,” Connor watched as Reed bent down and placed the baggie on the ground before turning away and sprinting off. “Better pick that up! And you might wanna refrain from calling the cops!” Then the bastard was gone so quickly Connor couldn't even register what just happened.

 

Then he looked down at the baggie right at his feet. It was broad daylight so he couldn't leave it there and definitely didn't need anyone wondering what the commotion was about and something about calling the cops. Connor quickly picked the baggie up, going back inside his house, and closing the door without a second thought on actually locking it.

 

He should have just thrown the bag away, but his mind wouldn’t let him. He, instead, threw the baggie on the table, doing so made his body tense up. A sense of paranoia was beginning to form, those haunting thoughts began to plague his mind and he couldn’t take it anymore.

 

The ‘ _I want’_ had finally beaten out the ‘ _I shouldn’t’._

 

_Just… One more time._

 

He went on autopilot, going through the old motions he went through earlier that day; Motions of blatant inevitability. He couldn't stop himself; His hands shook with anticipation when he dumped the content out on the table. The rush of excitement he was feeling was sickening. The pieces of paper were left from earlier as well. They once taunted him but he came to use them all the same.

 

A part of him, a very small part, was yelling at him to stop what he was doing but he blocked that voice out. Those last threads of control were gone when he made that first line; The urges and cravings were controlling him. They were too strong, completely taking over any rationale on just how fucked up this was.

 

_But oh, he missed that rush._

 

The first line was done easily enough. The few slips he had were usually just one line so he could feel _something_. But he couldn't stop himself at that time. The second line was made and inhaled just a quickly. Moments past by and Connor could already feel the euphoria beginning to spread throughout his body and he _loved_ it; He wanted to _keep_ it; _He needed it._

 

A third line was made next which was probably not a good idea. None of this was a good idea but the line, crafted like the others, was soon snorted up. The fourth line? Even worse to do, but there he was, the powder going into his nose soon being added into his system. The speed of consumption was becoming dangerous and yet—

 

_Nothing beats the high of red ice._

 

The world around him began to slow, his body relaxing down more than it should. Connor was nearly unconscious, making the fifth line that tipped him over the breaking point. As time progressed, he grew unaware, soon unable to process anything in his vicinity. He didn't realize how his body was trembling or how his breathing was becoming more difficult. His vision was going in and out as he slumped onto the couch, breaking out into a cold sweat. His heart rate was slowing in his chest, the world itself was soon slipping reality away until he fell completely unconscious.

 

Connor didn't realize his door was being knocked on, growing more frantic as time passed or how his phone had rung several times. He didn't realize how someone seemingly came into his house, worried, crying out in panic. He further didn't realize the Narcan nasal spray being used on him or how 911 was called immediately. Time didn't exist anymore, nothing mattered anymore. Being on the stretchers or being hauled out of his house didn't matter. The blaring sirens didn't matter.

 

At the time, the voice calling out to him to ‘wake up’ was phasing in and out. That voice frantically spoke out some more; A “Connor please!” or a “Please, not like this!” but Connor couldn't process it. It didn't matter.

 

Nothing mattered except for the euphoria.

 

The sensation he never wanted to be without.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so if you made it to the end of this mess, congratulations you endured in Connor overdosing  
> Don't worry he isn't going to die, but he'll be fucked up for a bit  
> Also, I apologize for the month delay. School suuuuuucccccks and I literally wrote this in pieces to put all together.  
> The next update? TBD but do look out for it, I promise I'm not dead... yet (with school)  
> Thanks for being patient and sticking around <3  
> And a general note: A Narcan spray is literally an overdose reverser

**Author's Note:**

> As a note: Red Ice is listed as the chemical compound of cocaine that apparently 'isn't the same' so to me, Red Ice has the cost and usual route of administration is cocaine, the high effect of heroin, and the after-effects of meth. It's practically a super drug.  
> Also, as a word of wisdom, don't do drugs kids :)


End file.
